Brightblade

by C. T. Phipps

  Ashura, however, had moved on. “We should find other members of your age group and feed them vampire blood after severely injuring them. This could be a good source of dhampyr cuisine. The money for a fresh one—”

  Tracy and I stared death at her.

  I shook my head. “So, if I am actually a living vampire then I need to get used to a liquid diet, huh?”

  “Like I said, it could go either way,” Arthur said. “You could wake up tomorrow as a human.”

  “Or a vampire or I could stay like this forever,” I said, crossing my arms. “Do you know what I should look out for as a vampire-lite? Vampirelette? Dampy?”

  “Don’t call us that,” Tracy said. “First thing: vampires. Watch out for them.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know that part.”

  “You should be fine in general,” Arthur said. “You don’t have much in the way of our weaknesses save the blood thirst and maybe an irritation with traditional vampire weaknesses. Nothing that can actually hurt you, though.”

  “So, dhampyr have all the strengths and none of the weaknesses, huh? Awesome, I’m like Blade.” I was trying to put a good spin on things and reassure myself this wasn’t so bad. I was failing miserably. All I could remember was how good that blood tasted and wondering how Alex’s would if I were to drink from him.

  Ugh.

  “Well some of the strengths and few of the weaknesses,” Tracy said. “I’m going to live a long time and I’m telepathic. That’s about it. Even Minji could throw me around and she’s the kind of vampire that others stuff in her locker.”

  Minji narrowed her eyes. “Eventually, I’ll be old enough to stuff them in their lockers. Besides, I have humans to abuse in the meantime. People like the ones who called me Minji in high school. That means Beaver in Mongolian, by the way. You do the math. Vampiredom is a pyramid scheme. Shit rolls downhill and it’s glorious when you’re at the top.”

  “That should be in about a thousand years, dear,” Ashura said, dryly. “Well unless we kill all the Ancients first.”

  “We should run some tests when we get done with our present errands,” Alex said. “I have a laboratory hidden in a snow globe back at my hotel.”

  “Is there any way that sentence makes sense to someone other than you, Alex?” I asked.

  “No, probably not,” Alex said.

  “Is it like a metaphor?” Bryce asked.

  “No, it means I keep a pocket dimension in a snow globe where I also store my laboratory,” Alex said.

  “Uh huh,” Bryce said.

  “So, don’t act like anything is different, try not to get shot,” I said, less happy about the revelations here than I should have been.

  Maybe I just needed to get over my issues and embrace the fang side. Would it be so bad to be a vampire? Maybe not. Maybe I was misjudging them all and Sophia was an outlier rather than the default. Maybe it would turn out I liked being undead. There had to be some vampires who weren’t complete assholes—my brother for instance.

  Don’t think like that, Tracy’s voice spoke in my mind.

  What? You’re in my brain too now? I asked. Can we just blast it to the whole of the room? In that case, why bother with telepathy.

  Almost everyone in this car is connected via the blood but I can shut it off if I want. It’s just you and me now. Well, you, me, and the sword.

  I can leave your conversation if you wish, Zadkiel replied.

  I do, Tracy said.

  Then I felt the angel’s presence leave. It was surprising that I sort of missed it. It was strangely comforting to have an angel in your brain, even if you were at loggerheads with it. Loggerheads? Okay, what was with my speech since becoming a dhampyr?

  Vampire blood has a mildly intoxicating effect, Tracy said. More like pot mixed with speed than alcohol, though.

  Wow, I thought. That does explain a few things. What were you saying?

  You don’t want to be a vampire, Tracy replied.

  You don’t? I asked. I mean, you are a Blood Slave, err, Servant.

  Let’s just say I have mixed feelings on the subject, Tracy said. Arthur made his choice voluntarily, something most changed don’t get the opportunity to do, but I’ve seen him struggle with what he’s become. Most don’t struggle at all. Minji used to be my best friend.

  And now she’s not? I asked, wondering just how much my brother had changed.

  She’s a spy for Sophia Baron now, Tracy said.

  And you didn’t think to tell the rest of us? I asked.

  I don’t want her killed, Tracy replied.

  Arthur wouldn’t do that, I replied. He’s a lot of things but not a murderer.

  I was less sure about that than I wanted to be. A lot of things could change in eight years and he’d already undergone a mammoth amount of changes that weren’t limited to the fact he now feasted on the blood of the living.

  Ashura would, Tracy replied.

  Is it safe to keep her around, though? I asked, looking over at Minji who was leaning in to an uncomfortable-looking Alex.

  Better the Devil you know, Tracy said. If she contacts Sophia, we’ll know. Besides, if she’s using Minji then we know what Sophia knows.

  You have the mind of a spymaster, I said.

  Thank you, Tracy said.

  So, Sophia’s sister was working for Arthur and Arthur’s creation was working for Sophia. Worse, I had been almost enslaved by Sophia and was Arthur’s sister. Worse, my best friend aside from Jack, had been spying on me the entire time on behalf of my brother. Vampire politics were giving me a headache.

  Wait, why did Sophia send a spy into Arthur’s strip club? I asked. Friend of yours or not?

  For taking you away, Tracy said. Sophia planned to turn you. Arthur stopped it. Sophia never forgave him for it.

  I let that sink in.

  Shit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Movie Scene where the Hero Meets the Villain in a Bar

  It turned out riding in a Vampire Pimp-Mobile in New Detroit three a.m. traffic was a lot more boring than I would have expected. Worse, the sex talk was still the only thing people discussed besides violence.

  “Really, so all vampires are bisexual?” Bryce asked.

  “Well, my family had a spectrum of sexual preference from our mortal days,” Arthur said. “But generally, vampires become more flexible with age.”

  “I still like dudes,” Minji said, like it was a competition.

  “Give it a century dear,” Ashura said, smiling. “In the end, they’re all food.”

  Tracy breathed on the side of the window and drew the letters to spell HELP.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “Some cop will take it seriously and we don’t have time.”

  “Not in this city,” Arthur said.

  “I hope that wasn’t meant to be reassuring.”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “The Bite is designed to induce rapturous sexual pleasure in both sides with every use,” Ashura explained, still talking to Bryce. “Gender preference doesn’t matter but certainly helps.”

  “Really?” Bryce asked, looking a little curious.

  “Yes, it’s so you don’t notice when you’re dying,” Tracy said.

  “Huh,” Bryce said.

  The window between the driver’s seat and the backseat rolled down. A Special Forces-looking black man with muscles on top of muscles looked back. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses and a suit that would have been at home among the Secret Service. “We’re close to the target zone, ma’am.”

  “Splendid,” Ashura said, cheerfully. “If you bring me back Sophia’s head, Ms. Morgan, I’ll happily complete your transformation.”

  “If you haven’t been paying attention to the plot,” I said, “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

  Ashura curled up her nose. “But you’d make such a good one. And you’re already having to drink blood, you might as well go all the way.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Why? Is bu
rping and sweating and having to run to the bathroom however many times humans have to do that every day, really so valuable to you?” Ashura asked. “I was a woman and a slave in the 14th century. Vampirism was a liberation for me.”

  “Ashley wouldn’t adapt well to the change,” Arthur said, softly. “Not everyone has the—”

  “Strength?” Ashura asked.

  “Stomach for immortality,” Arthur said.

  “What do you mean I don’t have the stomach?” I demanded, angrily.

  I think you’re giving mixed signals, Zadkiel replied.

  I’m having a very stressful day, I replied.

  Arthur looked at me sideways. “Do you want me to say you want to be a vampire or not?”

  “I think she’s saying she’d prefer if you said she’d make an awesome vampire even if she doesn’t want to be,” Alex said, cheerfully.

  “Uh huh,” Arthur said, skeptically.

  “It sounds stupid when you put it that way,” I muttered.

  “Maybe he just means you don’t like drinking blood,” Bryce said, cheerfully.

  “Everyone likes drinking blood,” Ashura said, sniffing the air like a villainess in a romantic comedy. “It’s what we’re made for.”

  “I mean she’s not a murderer,” Arthur said.

  “Vampires don’t have to be murderers, do they?” Bryce asked.

  No one in the car answered.

  The silence spoke volumes.

  The limousine parked itself by the sidewalk in an isolated, mostly abandoned neighborhood in the Halo. New Detroit was constantly pushing out into Old Detroit with the vampires hoping to drive the property values down so they could turn the homes of regular humans into more services for their tourist/food herds. I was just glad to be here because I wanted to rescue Jack and put this entire nightmare behind me.

  We’re far from that, Zadkiel said.

  Assuming I want to help you fight Nobozo and his harem of furies, I replied.

  Yes, assuming, Zadkiel said.

  I opened the door and got out. “Anyone going to wish me luck?”

  “You don’t need luck,” Ashura said. “You need to realize your friend is going to die eventually anyway, so we have nothing to lose here!”

  “Do you try to be offensive?”

  Ashura smiled. I had no idea what that meant.

  I shut the door and walked on.

  The neighborhood looked like one of those ones in movies where women walked into an alley only to be ambushed by convenient thugs lying in wait. I always hated those movies and wondered why writers assumed there was an army of predators in every shadow. It was harder to cast aside those kinds of fears when you knew there were a bunch of vampires, criminals, shapechangers, and other people concentrated in a city run by its own law.

  Most of the buildings around me were abandoned or for sale, a few of them having signs that indicated they’d been repossessed by the Midnight Bank or one of its subsidiaries. The streetlights were on and brightly lit but there were almost no cars except for a set of black SUVs gathered in front of the Black Spot Bar. Its pirate-themed neon sign was dead, but I could see lights on inside. Presumably, this was Sophia’s crew and they’d reopened the building (as well as made use of its literal dungeon).

  I don’t recall the place having a pirate theme when I was last here, but then I was drunk out of my mind at the time. And, apparently, vampire mind control. It would help explain why I have one of those shirts with the black and white stripes in my closest. I sighed and walked up and opened the door. It’s not like it was going to be less of a trap if I waited longer.

  I walked up to the glass door and almost immediately reared back when a dog-faced monster with yellow eyes greeted me. He was wearing an Italian suit and had an expensive watch and stared at me before opening the door.

  “You’re expected, doll,” he said in an Italian accent.

  “Woof,” I said.

  He frowned at me as if he wasn’t obviously the uglier, smaller counterpart to a puppy in wolfman form.

  It is a ghoul, Zadkiel said. Your new state as a dhampyr should allow you to see through most glamours.

  “You’ll have to put down the…sword,” the ghoul said, curling up his snout. “No weapons by the boss lady’s orders.”

  “There are five SUVs here,” I said. “And your boss is afraid I’m carrying a glorified carving knife? Just in case I decide to overpower the crowd of inhuman monsters she’s brought all by myself? In any case, I don’t take your boss’s orders anymore.”

  “Let her in,” Sophia’s sultry voice spoke from inside the bar.

  I stepped past the ghoul and entered the dive bar that just so happened to have a skull and crossbones wall decoration, an anchor, and a few other minor nautical nods that did little to hide the fact the place was a shithole even before it was abandoned for six months.

  The bar itself had been cleaned out of beer, vodka, tequila, and other spirits but Sophia had a bottle of wine in front of her with two glasses set to its side. Looking upon her, I was prepared to punch her in the face or take her hostage with my flaming sword but that didn’t happen. Instead, I struggled to keep my free will.

  Sophia Baron was one of those women who could have been an actress if she hadn’t chosen to become a monster. Indeed, she’d shown me a few nudity-heavy giallo films from the 1960s that starred a woman suspiciously similar in appearance to her. Vampirism had changed her, though, and made her different enough to be only recognizable in hindsight.

  Her sharp patrician features and raven hair were contrasted with marble white skin, prominent canines, a tiny beauty mark on her cheek, and lips that were naturally the color of blood. She was dressed in the finest of couture fashion, a red dress no less, but it seemed almost unnecessary for something that my inner self shrank away from. Sophia was a predator, no different than a wolf, and my instincts recognized she would consider me a sheep.

  I could feel the pressure she was trying to put on my mind. It felt like…. I don’t know how to describe it. An urge to find this entire situation reasonable. To find her beautiful, which she was, undeniably, like a statue, like an ideal, like…DAMNIT.

  No wonder she’d found me such easy prey. I’d been at the lowest point in my life then. I’d been at my most vulnerable. Had she needed to expend the slightest effort to add me to her collection then? But I’m not at the bottom of a bottle now. I spent years letting Anna practice her mind-control on me, which meant I knew a thing or two about fighting it. And Amanda Morgan’s granddaughter wasn’t going to be a play-toy again.

  “Hello, Sophia. Wow. You brought how many monsters here just for me? Twenty? Damn, your confidence must be low. What happened? Can I help?”

  Sophia didn’t initially respond but just picked up her wine bottle and poured a little of its contents on the floor. I felt woozy as the smell almost overwhelmed me and made me want to clutch my stomach. It wasn’t the same sort of blood that Arthur had fed me. No. It wasn’t even human blood. It was something much more potent. I wanted to throw myself on the ground to lick it up like an animal.

  “Interesting,” Sophia said, bemused. “You’re not a full vampire yet. Instead, you smell like the sibling of mine who helped create this. Poor little Bruno. He’s spent his entire life from childhood to middle age being milked like a cow in our basement. The fear and desperation make the blood so sweet, though.”

  “You’d eat your own siblings? Wow, I thought Tracy was exaggerating.”

  Sophia poured herself a glass of the dhampyr blood as she swirled it around, taunting me with it. “My father is addicted to human women. It is an addiction I share. For him, it is a benefit as a weakness as he sires dozens of children each generation. When they’re born, he murders the mothers and takes them to be raised by a group of enslaved nuns. When the eldest reaches the age of twenty-one, he chooses three to be turned into vampires and then the others sold as slaves or used as wine casques. I was one of the lucky ones, my two-year-old half-brother and s
ixteen other siblings were not so lucky. Tracy would have been my blood sister if dear Arthur hadn’t stolen her. Stolen her like he stole you.”

  “No one stole me,” I said, icily. “I am my own woman.”

  Sophia laughed, laughed as if I’d said the moon was made of cotton candy and politicians were trustworthy.

  “Where’s Jack?” I asked.

  Sophia sipped her glass of blood. “He’s downstairs with four of my ghouls. Alive, but that is subject to change. I want to negotiate with you. Fairly. We don’t have to be enemies in this.”

  “Yes, I could let you control my mind again and be your friendly puppet. That would be great, let’s do that!”

  “If not for me you’d be dead,” Sophia said. “Either from wandering out into the streets waiting for one of the city’s nightlife to take your life or seeking your end through the method of suicide you presently pursue.”

  “I’m not suicidal,” I said, crossing arms.

  “No, you just get into fistfights with werebears,” Sophia said, knowing more than she should. “Weren’t you happy under my control? I note that Arthur only tampered with my control a little bit. He didn’t remove all the mental blocks I put there. He was afraid you’d lose everything. You’re an addictive personality my dear and I can tell you cannot willingly resist the allure of our life. Not without someone to protect you.”

  I felt her press herself into my mind and pull forth all the pseudo-happy memories I’d experienced with her. No matter what we did, I’d been content because I’d wanted nothing more than her approval and she’d given it freely. It was the ultimate drug in a way, to feel happy as long as your master was pleased—and why wouldn’t she be pleased if you obeyed her in all things? Offered your very life to them? It was the definition of love to be willing to die for someone and I’d been willing to at various points in our relationship. Things I only remembered now that I was once more in her presence. Arthur had fiddled with that too. Something he’d wiped from my mind.

  I remembered Arthur kidnapping me now, holding me in a hotel, and taking away Sophia’s control. He’d shown up in my life and then removed it from me. Tracy had tied me to a chair and Arthur had burrowed into my mind, using our old connection to let him strip away Sophia’s programming. The realization of that hurt and made me want to track him down: to punch, stake, or decapitate. Could I trust any of my memories now? How much was just vampire woo-woo?